


Who Was In My Room Last Night?

by A_M_Kelley



Category: Bandom, Metallica
Genre: Biting, Explicit Sexual Content, Gentle Sex, Heavy Drinking, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Sleepy/Unconscious Sex, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 04:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15833532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_M_Kelley/pseuds/A_M_Kelley
Summary: Getting fucked while your unconscious?Pfft! Whatever!Kirk is more concerned aboutwhoit is. He has to figure that it’s one of the guys, though. No one else knows his room number besides James, Lars, and Cliff.





	Who Was In My Room Last Night?

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by the Butthole Surfers song of the same name.
> 
> Purposely written to be a mystery so people can imagine who they want, seeing as how I wrote this with no particular band member in mind. Takes place during MoP era because ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Kirk wakes up sometime in the middle of the night.

He had drank too much the evening prior after a show and passed out fairly early. At least earlier than what he was used to. He wandered (stumbled, really) back to his hotel room alone despite Lars offering to follow him back in case something happened, and crashed almost immediately. He tore his clothes away with heavy and inarticulate hands until he was down to nothing but a pair of briefs and socks.

He passed out with the blankets draped over him and nodded off.

Now here he was, lying on his stomach with his arms sprawled across the width of the bed and face first in a pool of his own drool. This makes him close his mouth and swallow, but despite the wet spot on his pillow Kirk’s mouth is drier than the Mojave and his tongue feels like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth. His mind tells him to get up and drink some water but he’s still too blitzed and sluggish to move much.

It isn’t until awareness slowly starts to creep up on him that he realizes just how drunk he really is, because even now he can hardly register the slight stabbing pain throbbing in his lower half. Or the fact that someone is on top of him. Kirk mumbles incoherently, making a noise that sounds like a groan, and gets a hushed _shh_ in response. Not quite telling Kirk to remain quiet, but more so trying to calm him.

Moments pass with Kirk lying there, attempting to jostle some form of movement into his limbs without paying too much attention to what was happening to him. Kirk still wasn’t sure what was happening. All he can comprehend is a dull ache and hands gripping his waist. He moves a little, squirming slightly, and feels those hands pull at him. They drag him back and yank his hips up into the air as far as they can go without collapsing immediately.

Kirk regains some of his motor functions and is able to get his hands under him to try and scramble for purchase, but just as he starts to raise his body up the hands leave his hips and wrap around his wrists instead. Kirk makes a futile effort to break away, but his visitor is insistent and it doesn’t take much to overpower him to begin with. His hands get pinned to the mattress below, making him immobile, and when he struggles it all becomes clear to him despite the stupor he’s in.

A sudden gasp escapes his mouth as Kirk jolts at the sudden spike of pain that shoots up his spine. Kirk pushes his whole body backwards, inadvertently driving himself further into the sharp sensation of pain. His mind can’t fully put two and two together until he feels the soft, warm caress of a body pressing against him and _into_ him. The body moves and Kirk knows instantly what’s going on.

He lets out a long winded moan as he sobers up a little and comes to a final conclusion: Someone’s fucking him while he’s unconscious. But he’s awake now and whoever this is is aware of that. Kirk thinks for a moment that maybe he should put a stop to this and even tries to speak but only a jumbled mess of syllables tumble out. He isn’t sure what he’s even attempting to say. _What’s going on? Who are you? Stop. Don’t stop._ Nothing sounds the least bit coherent to Kirk.

There isn’t much Kirk can do but relax as best he can and just let it happen. Even if he wasn’t being pinned down by the wrists there was no way he could even begin to imagine overpowering his intruder. He was too scrawny, too drunk, and too compromised to do much of anything. Surprisingly that isn't what bothers Kirk the most about the situation. Getting fucked while your unconscious? _Pfft! Whatever!_ Kirk is more concerned about _who_ it is. He has to figure that it’s one of the guys, though. No one else knows his room number besides James, Lars, and Cliff.

Which makes this even more interesting. Which one of them could it be?

Kirk doesn’t have time to ponder that for long because he’s being pushed further into the mattress and his ass is being urged higher. He sluggishly complies, getting his knees under him, and spreads his legs apart. This causes Kirk’s body to open up more and allow this mystery man to sink deeper inside of him. It draws an inarticulate cry out of Kirk as the initial discomfort ripples through him. He can hear the man hum in amusement like he’s pleased by Kirk’s obedience. An action that ultimately makes Kirk feel accomplished.

After a few moments Kirk relaxes (as much as he can) and the man on top of him bends down to kiss at his shoulder blades, remaining still inside Kirk for the time being. The contact is gentle, barely there, and a waterfall of hair cascades down Kirk’s back. _So they have long hair. That really narrows it down,_ Kirk muses sarcastically. He tries to turn his head off to the side but it’s much too dark and Kirk’s vision doesn’t adjust properly. He can’t even make out a faint silhouette. And of course his partner doesn’t say a word the whole time either.

It’s actually kind of exciting in a perverted and twisted way. Waking up hungover in the middle of the night to someone fucking you and having no clue who it is. Kirk still wonders though. Which one of them is cunning enough to pull something like this off? Lars, maybe? He’s always pushing the limits of boundaries in the band by being handsy, especially with Kirk. That doesn’t necessarily mean it couldn’t have been James or Cliff. With how gentle he was being and taking his time to kiss Kirk’s back, it might be Cliff. Cliff seems like he’d be gentle. But the way he was being pinned to the bed had James’ name written all over it. Like an incessant need to prove how alpha he is.

There really is no telling in the end. Kirk’s still drunk, his head feels heavy, and there’s a constant throbbing inside of him that doesn’t quite subside even when he starts to get used to being invaded. Something about it is decidedly delicious to Kirk in a way he can’t fully describe. It might be the alcohol or it might be the soft caress of someone brushing his long hair aside so they can bite tenderly into his neck.

The action incapacitates Kirk. So much so that he hardly notices it when his wrists are no longer being pinned down. The love bite paralyzes him with a flood of endorphins, making him think fondly of the old vampire movies he loved as a kid, and he calls out shortly. It’s a soft and timid whimper that sounds far too delicate to be coming out of his mouth, but there’s no room for Kirk to be self conscious now.

The person on top of him might be able to hear, but at least he can’t see Kirk. Kirk has to assume that he looks like a trainwreck. Drunk, covered in drool, hair a frizzy mess. That’s one less thing to be embarrassed by, he supposes. Still, some of the noises that come out of him are unavoidable.

The man behind him starts to move, slowly at first to gauge Kirk’s reaction, before moving more consistently. The pace is smooth enough, not too overwhelming for Kirk, but he moans and squirms all the same like he can’t decide if it hurts or feels good. Perhaps both, because Kirk is pushing back against the other man’s groin with what little enthusiasm he can muster in his current state. It also helps that he’s being distracted by loving nips across his shoulders and calloused, yet gentle, hands caressing him.

Kirk’s arms curl in and he slides his hands underneath the sides of his pillow to grip the sheet. He’s moaning loudly as his mystery man holds his hips in place and fucks him gently. His head is swimming, feeling light and heavy at the same time, as he drifts off to la la land. Kirk’s so enraptured by the sensation that he doesn’t even notice he’s drooling again. He can’t even tell if this is a dream or not anymore as he fades in and out of consciousness.

But he can feel the warmth radiating off of his partner (James, Lars, or Cliff, he isn’t sure) and that keeps Kirk lucid enough. That, and the fact that there’s a cock up his ass nudging what he can only guess is his prostate. His whining gets more melodic, staying in time with every thrust inward, and he doesn’t even care how girly or frantic it sounds to his ears. All that matters to him is living in the moment.

His body starts lurching back and forth, up and down the length of the bed with the impact of each thrust. He can feel himself rubbing against the mattress and it comes to Kirk’s attention that he’s actually hard, or he’s just losing his mind altogether. But he finds himself grinding purposely against the bedding below him, causing the man on top to push Kirk further into the mattress.

Strong hips pin him hard and the hands find and return to Kirk’s wrists, gripping them tightly. Kirk arches his ass, seeking out friction, and is pleased when he hears a deep groan stammer from his intruder. A trembling breath follows and it’s so close that Kirk can actually feel the heat of it brush over the shell of his ear. Hips snap against his ass, driving deeper inside, and the soft caress of a whisper is replaced by teeth grazing his lobe. It’s an action that makes Kirk’s whole body seize up and his toes curl until his feet cramp.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh and soft groans fill the air, becoming the symphony to Kirk’s _deflowering_ , as it were. At one point he hears the man growl _fuck_ directly into his ear, but Kirk is so delirious and dizzy from a mixture of alcohol and getting his ass pounded that he can’t make out who it is. And does it really matter now?

He’s wailing like an animal in heat as his ass is fucked shallowly. The man gnaws on his ear like a chew toy, running his tongue along the ridge of it before coming back down and nipping at it some more. His cock grinds roughly into the bedsheets and he shudders bodily, seeming to vibrate with excitement. Kirk’s legs shake, straining to keep him propped up enough for his partner, and his whole body feels like it’s about to topple under the sheer force at which the thrusts are coming now.

They’re becoming more frantic but consistent, pumping faster against Kirk’s ass. The man is panting in his ear, drenching his neck in hot puffs of breath that make him sweat. Kirk flexes his wrists and it prompts the grip around them to tighten. He pretends to fight against the resistance, smirking when he gets pinned down roughly and those teeth sink back into his neck in a claiming bite. Kirk lets out a primal grunt, the sound muffled slightly by his pillow, and bucks when he gets a sudden jolt of energy.

He lurches further into the contact, egging his visitor on by presenting himself as best he can. The cock inside of him nudges against his prostate and it sends him crashing back into the mattress. His messy hair cascades all around him, shrouding Kirk further, but the teeth piercing his neck still remains. His arousal rubs incessantly over the covers as he crumbles and all gentleness is thrown out the window as he’s fucked roughly into the bed.

“Oh, _yes_ , god,” are the first and only coherent words Kirk says through the whole ordeal and it’s over.

His ass bounces off of the other man’s groin from the crashing impact of their bodies and his cock collides with the mattress, building up that sweet friction. He can hear himself sobbing pitifully into his pillow and comes when he feels the head of the man’s cock brush the slightest bit across his prostate. Either that or he’s just pissed himself. Regardless, his whole body shakes from the sensation and he gives one final cry of ecstasy.

Kirk goes completely boneless, feeling all sorts of spent, and is left at the mercy of his surprise guest. His wrists are released, the teeth leave his neck, and his hips are gripped in a bruising hold that keeps him perfectly still as he’s pounded relentlessly into next week. Kirk can’t feel much of anything except for the dull ache pushing his insides apart to make room for the invasion. The man above him sounds absolutely broken as his hips stutter and the last thing Kirk remembers before passing out is the flood of warmth that follows after.

 

Kirk wakes up the next morning on his stomach and lying in a pool of drying drool as well as a suspicious puddle around his crotch. He stirs, feeling groggy and dehydrated beyond belief. The sun beaming in through the windows doesn’t help the massive headache he has either. Kirk attempts to crack his eyes open a little more, but it takes him a few moments before he gets used to the light. After he allows himself to wake up a little more Kirk shifts his whole body, stretching out across the width of his bed.

But when he stretches his legs off to the side a sharp jolt of pain wracked his body, causing him to gasp. The more he moves himself around, the more he starts to put the pieces together. Sheets drenched, ass throbbing… _Oh, right. I was fucked last night by a complete stranger. It wasn’t a dream after all._

Eventually Kirk manages to maneuver himself to sit on the side of his bed, taking note that he’s completely bare except for a pair of socks and sticky fluid adorning his lower half. He reaches a hand down between his thighs and rubs his fingers against his hole. He hisses under his breath at the contact. The ring of muscle feels all puffy and irritated and it hurts to touch for too long. Kirk feels around some more and notices his inner thighs are also stiff with sticky residue.

All of it makes Kirk feel especially gross and soiled, violated even, now that he’s lucid enough to think properly. But, damn, is it also incredibly hot. Still, Kirk decides the best course of action is to take a shower and get ready for the day.

Later on when he’s finally put together and able to walk ten feet without limping too badly, he storms into James’ room where they have all congregated and points an accusing finger at all of them. They all look surprised and completely oblivious. James, Lars, and Cliff share a look of pure confusion at Kirk and stare at him like he’s crazy. But Kirk’s no fool and he knows someone here is guilty and he’s not letting anyone leave this room until he gets a straight answer.

“Alright, which one of you fucking fuckers fucked me in my fucking ass last night?” Kirk asks casually.

And it’s perhaps his most articulate sentence of all time.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I Need Answers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16984290) by [ArtisticallyInsightful1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtisticallyInsightful1/pseuds/ArtisticallyInsightful1)




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